


There Is A Light In The Dark (In My Heart, In My Hands)

by estriel



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: Angst, Complicated Relationships, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Pre-PyeongChang 2018 Winter Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-13 20:16:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21003542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/estriel/pseuds/estriel
Summary: “It’s not over,” he whispers to the empty locker room, pressing his palms to his face. “It’s not over yet.” The same prayer he has been repeating ever since his injuries, aches, and ailments first started piling up. Yuzu wonders if he even still believes it. He misses the days when he had felt invincible on the ice.





	There Is A Light In The Dark (In My Heart, In My Hands)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [emilia_kaisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilia_kaisa/gifts).
  * Inspired by [it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20999987) by [emilia_kaisa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilia_kaisa/pseuds/emilia_kaisa). 

> emilia_kaisa - you give me angst, I give you more angst but with a topping of fluff and hope. I hope you enjoy this little story!
> 
> Inspired by and written as a companion/counterpart to emilia_kaisa's [it comes and goes in waves (and carries us away)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20999987) \- make sure to read that beautiful piece first! <3
> 
> Title is from ["Waves" by Dean Lewis](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dKlgCk3IGBg).

_But there, Is a light,_

_In the dark, and I feel its warmth._

_In my hands, and my heart,_

_Why can't I hold on?_

_\- "Waves", Dean Lewis _

Yuzu lets out a quivering breath, lets his head bang back against the wall behind him, and closes his eyes. The pain is sharp and throbbing, pulsing through his ankle as if it wanted to remind him of the seconds ticking by. Seconds that turn into hours, that turn into days. Time he should be spending training for the Olympics. Time he instead spends struggling to build up to doubles, wondering just how hard he should grit his teeth, just how far he can push before he pushes too far and ruins even the last sliver of hope at a win in PyeongChang.

He feels tears in the corners of his eyes and blinks them away quickly. Yet another sign of weakness he cannot afford. He lets his eyes slide close, draws a few deep breaths to collect himself.

“It’s not over,” he whispers to the empty locker room, pressing his palms to his face. “It’s not over yet.” The same prayer he has been repeating ever since his injuries, aches, and ailments first started piling up. Yuzu wonders if he even still believes it. He misses the days when he had felt invincible on the ice.

“Yuzu?”

Yuzu’s eyes fly open. There he is, Javi, in the best shape he’s been all season, or perhaps ever, standing just inside the room. Yuzu feels a dull kind of ache – quite different than the one crashing through his ankle – seize his chest.

He detests Javi a little in this very moment, just for being healthy, strong, and uninjured. _Able_.

He also wants nothing more than to cry into Javi’s shoulder, curl up in his embrace like they used to do before… before Javi beat Yuzu not once, but twice, and made Yuzu think distance was what they needed more of. Now Yuzu wonders if he had been wrong about that, too, just as he had been about his own invincibility.

“Sorry, I’m just taking break,” he mutters quickly, and wonders if the wet trails of tears on his cheeks are visible from where Javi is standing. “I wanted to do another session. I just need a little…,” he motions towards his right foot, the wet patch on his sock from where he’d been icing the ankle. “Just a little rest,” he sighs, and looks down, feeling vulnerable now that he’s said it.

He needs to rest, and he knows it. They all know it. But there is no time for that.

He’s still looking down at his toes when Javi suddenly kneels in front of him. He looks up, but Javi’s eyes are downcast, studying Yuzu’s ankle – all Yuzu can see are Javi’s lashes, long and velvety and beautiful. He has almost forgotten how beautiful Javi is.

Then Javi reaches out, lays gentle hands around Yuzu’s ankle, just holding it for a moment, as if he, too, was sending up a prayer to the figure skating gods.

“Is this okay?” Javi asks, voice soft, and when he meets Yuzu’s gaze, his eyes are unbearably warm and tender, almost as warm and tender as his hands are, now moving up Yuzu’s calf, kneading into the tense tendons and muscles, soothing, softening.

It should be uncomfortable, awkward. They are who they are, after all, two rivals vying for the same piece of glory, cleaved apart by the keen edge of competition this past year or so.

But it’s not uncomfortable at all, and Yuzu nods in response to Javi’s question, emotion thick in his throat. They’re still Yuzu and Javi underneath it all, close and familiar. And just like that, Yuzu feels the old tension they have both been ignoring along with their friendship snap back into place. It has nothing to do with rivalries and competitions. It has everything to do with the way Javi sometimes stares at Yuzu’s lips when he thinks Yuzu isn’t looking, and the way Yuzu can’t help but smile fondly every time he spots Javi in the cafeteria, nursing yet another cup of coffee.

Yuzu barely dares to breathe because Javi is touching him now like... like they _could _be more than what they are, and Yuzu knows that that is foolish. He holds onto the edge of the bench he’s sitting on because if he didn’t, he’d reach out and touch Javi, and he can’t, he shouldn’t, they shouldn’t…

Javi lets go of his leg and reaches up to gently pry Yuzu’s fingers off of the bench. Then he lifts Yuzu’s hand and brushes his lips against Yuzu’s knuckles.

“You’re going to be okay,” Javi says, and the utter conviction in his words wraps around Yuzu like a blanket, warm and safe. Yuzu feels Javi’s breath quiver against the delicate skin on the back of his hand before Javi looks down, suddenly shy. “For me, you’re always the champion,” he adds, almost too quiet for Yuzu to catch.

When Javi looks up again, there is a smile on his face, sheepish and hesitant, an unspoken question written all over his face.

“Thank you,” Yuzu mumbles past the stuttering of his heart, past the fresh tears that have welled up in his eyes, this time for a vastly different reason. He squeezes Javi’s hand, slides his fingers between Javi’s, pressing their palms together.

Javi’s smile grows stronger, brighter. Like something Yuzu can hold on to. Like something he can believe in even if his world is in tatters. Like something real.


End file.
